


A Day at the Cabin

by CloverHighFive



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Autumn, F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Gender-neutral Reader, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Naked Sam Winchester, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 04:16:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16297997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloverHighFive/pseuds/CloverHighFive
Summary: You and Sam go to your cabin to spend some alone time. [Rainy fall aesthetic.]





	A Day at the Cabin

**Author's Note:**

> This is a non-gendered reader fic.

[Before we start, here, you can fill your ears with rain while you read...](https://youtu.be/Go4YMAws6BU?t=3h16m50s)

It was a small, rustic cabin, deep in the woods. You had acquired it long ago, long before you had started hunting. It was where you came to rest and recuperate. It was essentially one big room and it had everything you needed: on the wall to your right was the kitchen counter, then a small table, the bed, and a couch at the foot of the bed. Facing the couch was a fireplace. The walls of the cabin were almost entirely made of windows, giving you a panoramic view of the forest.

This secluded nook is where Sam and you came to be alone together, away from your life at the bunker and on the road – even if it’s only for a day or two. After a summer running around the country hunting all sorts of monsters, you needed some time to yourselves.

This time of year, the cloudy autumn skies made for tranquil days. Sam at the wheel, driving to your cabin, you sang songs, your hearts light and your eyes not wide enough to take in the scenery. The trees were in full colours, the forest floor littered with the first few fallen leaves. Soft rains had made the last greenery even greener, bringing a stark contrast with the oranges, reds and yellows.

You had gotten to the cabin in time for lunch and, after eating and unpacking, had gone on a hike. You walked in silence, breathing in the cool dampness of the forest, noticing various smells – tree bark, wet rocky sand, old leaves covering the ground. Every now and then, you’d look at Sam and smile to yourself, feeling so lucky. It was nice to see him walk with his nose in the air, looking up at the trees. He had one hand in his pocket and the other was loosely holding yours, fingers interlaced, his thumb stroking your hand. He’d turn around to look at you and he’d catch your eye. He’d smile, and lean in to give you a kiss.

You would go to your favourite spot to take your snack. The log was a big, long one, but you sat close, sometimes giving the other a little shoulder bump and pointing to some animal crossing the path. When you were done, Sam would put the wrappings and containers back in his bag. You’d pick up a little yellow snail and put it on your finger. Sam would rest his chin on your shoulder as you’d both watch patiently until it got its head out again and went about its snail business, all four antlers looking around. Sam would get this fond smile and wrap his arms around you. You would inevitably end up kissing lazily for a while.

You were on your way back as the afternoon was growing late. That’s when you got caught by a rainfall, one of those sudden, windless, cold, strong rainfalls that got you soaked through under a minute. As you ran back to the cabin, Sam pulled you along, holding your hand tight.

Getting inside, freezing, out of breath and giggling like schoolchildren, you both took your clothes off and threw them in the dryer. You hadn’t had time to fetch dry clothes that Sam was wrapping you in a blanket, himself already wrapped in one. He took you by the waist to pull you in for a kiss. You had pointed out that you needed to start a fire, and Sam – after stealing a kiss anyway, which you took your time giving him – had decided to go make some hot cocoa with mini marshmallows.

You piled up kindle in the hearth and lit it up. As the fire took, you added a few logs. You then turned and looked at Sam, who was stirring the hot cocoa on the stove, his blanket falling from his wide shoulders, a few strands of his ruffled wet hair plastered to his neck. You watched him pour two big mugs, add toppings, and come and join you, handing you your mug.

Sitting on the couch, you cuddled in your blankets, watching the fire, sipping on your hot cocoa. Sam had even added a generous splash of Bailey’s, which helped chasing the shivers away, but not completely. One thing would warm you up for sure: Sam’s touch. You put your mug down and undid your blankets. You snuggled against his cool, naked body as he brought the blankets back around you. You slowly drank your cocoa, exchanging chocolatey marshmallow kisses, feeling your bodies warm up together. You smooched your cold nose against his neck; he ran his fingers through your hair absentmindedly.

The fire made the place warm and dry. Between the sounds of the rainfall and the coziness of the cabin, you felt suspended in space and time. Empty mugs on the floor, bodies nestled into each other, your eyes were blinking slowly, the soft warmth under the blanket making you drowsy. However, the fire soon made the place so toasty you had to get up and crack open a window. The rain was still falling straight and strong; it seemed it would last the whole night.

Coming back to the couch, you saw Sam hadn’t bothered to wrap the blanket back around himself. He was lounging, one foot on the floor, his attention focused on the inside of the mug in his hand as he was trying with his finger to get the last mini marshmallow stuck to the bottom. He looked up at you with a triumphant smile as he showed you the marshmallow on his fingertip. He put the mug back down. He looked into your eyes, winked, and he licked up his finger, taking the marshmallow in with his tongue. Your brain stopped working. You looked at him, with his half dried messed up hair and his soft skin in the glow of the fire. You leaned in, laying your whole body on his in one fluid movement, wrapping your arms around him, kissing him. His hands traveled up your back and he wrapped his arms around you, keeping you close. His kisses were of a nurtured love, a longing that has the patience to taste you again like the first time. You decided to move things to the bed.

For a while, all you could hear was the rain falling outside, the fire crackling inside, his hands moving on your skin, the duvet being thrown aside, and the sounds of slow, lazy lovemaking.

Eventually, you lay in each other’s arms, on top of the covers, eyes closed, breathing deeply.

You woke up a bit disoriented, the fire being almost down to embers and there being no other light. The cracked window let cool air in, making you pull the duvet over yourselves. While you were sleeping, the rain had gone from the afternoon’s downpour to a soft, steady pitter-patter of droplets on the leaves.

You took a moment to wake up, nuzzling Sam’s neck, trailing your kisses along his jaw, pulling soft grunts from him. His hands were stroking your arm, fingers tickling you with the lightest touch.

As you came back to life, you both realized you were starving. You begrudgingly got out of the warmth of the bed and of each other’s arms to get dressed up. You then took care of the fire while Sam started on cutting vegetables for a stir-fry.

Cooking together was always fun. Sam’s knife skills were downright sexy. He’d argue you were sexier as you swiftly sent the vegetables flying and dancing in the pan. You’d catch him watching you with the focus of a man planning where he wants his lips on your body. You’d smirk as you reached for a few things to add – your spice game was strong, making your meals flavourful and satisfying.

Setting the table, Sam lit a few candles and poured some wine. You served big plates of vegetables and rice noodles, topped with fried tofu, nuts, coriander and hot sauce. You sat and ate while chatting about your lives, remembering sweet and funny anecdotes. Sometimes, Sam would get caught up in his memories and find himself telling a harsher story than he’d planned. You’d get up and kiss his sadness away. He would lay his head on your chest and hold onto you while you stroked his hair.

After dinner, you went back to the couch with your glasses of wine. You cuddled the night away, talking about nothing in particular.

You’d go to bed early. Tonight, you’d be the big spoon, kissing his shoulders, being the one to hold him, being the one to make him feel protected in your loving arms. You’d lay like this, looking at dancing shadows and the reflection of the fire on the window panes, until you drowsed off.


End file.
